#cocoa writes

[jztr-77]

RIORDAAAANNNNN

WRITE MORE ABOUT THE COCOA PUFFS, AND MY LIFE, IS YOURS

[cb-writes-stuff]

Image ID below the cut.

[ID: A four-panel meme in the “I see no difference, love is love” format, using cookies from Cookie Run Kingdom. In the top left labeled “Yaoi Couple” is Shadow Milk Cookie and Pure Vanilla Cookie. In the top right labeled “Yuri Couple” are Black Forest Cookie and Wedding Cake Cookie. In the bottom left labeled “Straight Couple” are Cocoa Cookie and Mint Choco Cookie. In the bottom right is Eternal Sugar Cookie, looking somewhat intimidating. Above her face the text is black and reads “I see no difference”. Below her face the text is white superimposed on a black square (implying another caption was covered up) and reads “Hollyberry Cookie has the other half of my Soul Jam”. /end ID]

[cookie-lore-keeper]

I have a strong urge to write a fanfiction about Mint Choco Cookie trying to ask Cocoa out on a date, but he's really nervous and Sparkling Cookie is his wing man but also it has Cocoa's POV as well and it shows Wedding Cake Cookie doing the same thing as Sparkling but I have a track record of not finishing fics😭

Alsoo....

LOOK AT SPARKLING AND TELL ME HE WOULDN'T BE MINT'S WINGMAN. Istg, he's been shipping these two since day one.

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Best Present

hot cocoa bar celebration🧤❄️🎄

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!(implied cop)!reader

Summary: You want to ask Tim to be your date to a Christmas party, but he's going with another woman. When you're caught under the mistletoe together, you give Tim more than a present.

Warnings/Word Count: fluff, brief angst. 1.2k+ words

“Tim!” you call as you exit the locker room. When he stops and turns toward you, you smile and ask, “Can we talk?”

Tim begins to nod but is interrupted by Angela reminding everyone of the Evers-Lopez Christmas party tonight. As she tells the surrounding officers about the gift exchange, food, and fun she and Wesley have planned, your eyes stray to Tim. It has taken over a week to convince yourself it isn’t a terrible idea, and now you’re ready to ask Tim to go with you to the party. Your fingers tap nervously against your hip, though you’re oblivious to Tim’s repeated glances at you.

“Who’s bringing a date?” Angela inquires. “I need to make sure we have enough food.”

“And mistletoe?” Nyla guesses.

“I don’t even know what that is,” Angela deflects. “Dates? Timothy?”

“Yeah, I’m bringing someone,” Tim answers.

Angela’s jaw drops as you and everyone else swing your head to look wide-eyed at him. She had been kidding when she called him out specifically and certainly didn’t expect him to say he had a date. Tim says her name and where they met, but you can’t hear anything over your heart pounding and a week’s worth of doubts swirling.

“You said you wanted to talk?” Tim remembers as the surprise diminishes and people begin leaving the station.

“Yeah…” you answer. “It can wait, though. Enjoy your date.”

You could’ve still asked him or told him the truth of what you wanted to talk about, but it’s easier this way. You’ll be at the same party. Tim with his date and you with what’s left of your Christmas cheer and a heart crushed like peppermint.

Tucked into a corner with one of Lucy’s Christmas cookies, you watch the party from a safe distance. Tim’s date is gorgeous, as you expected, and you fight to keep your attention away from them.

“Hey,” Lucy greets as she approaches your safe haven. You send her a close-lipped smile, and she lays her hand on your shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Nothing worth talking about,” you say. “These cookies are amazing by the way. Peppery ginger snaps, who knew?”

“My aunt. But, seriously, if you decide you want to talk, you know where to find me.”

“I do. Go enjoy the party.”

“As long as you do, too. I’m getting your gift during Dirty Santa and if Tim even thinks about stealing it, I’ll tell Angela about his bad attitude last week.”

“I think I’d like to see that.”

Lucy sends you a heart with her hands, and you finish the last bite of your cookie. Walking through Angela’s house to either get another or throw away your plate (you’ll decide when you get there), you keep your eyes down until your shoulder bumps into someone.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, looking up.

“You’re on a mission,” Tim muses. “There’s no more cookies, but if you’re nice to Nyla, she might tell you where she’s hiding them.”

“I could just get something else,” you murmur, thinking it would be easier to get someone else, but you want Tim.

“Uh, guys?” Nolan interrupts. “You’re under the mistletoe.”

Tim tips his head back and spots the green leaves hanging sneakily above a doorframe. You shake your head at Nolan, but he waves Angela over despite your protests.

“It’s tradition!” she argues. “You have to!”

“Yes!” Lucy agrees when she realizes where you are. “Kiss!”

Several of your friends cheer, and you shake your head again.

“Don’t be such a Scrooge!” Lucy tells Tim.

“I knew you were going to say that,” Tim complains.

“Tim, you’re here with a date,” you remind him softly.

Tim clicks his tongue, then raises his hands to the sides of your neck and jaw. “We have no choice,” he points out.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you lean in and kiss Tim. The noise of the party fades as you grip Tim’s waist and move with him. When Tim pulls back, you notice that the crowd beside you has dissipated.

“Where’s, uh…” you begin.

“My date?” Tim guesses with a barely contained smile.

“Yeah.”

“She left ten minutes in, decided this wasn’t her scene – her words.”

“How is a Christmas party not someone’s scene?”

Tim shrugs, and you apologize for his bad date.

“It worked out,” Tim replies.

“Gift time!” Angela yells from the living room.

You find a place on a small loveseat by Tim and watch as the white elephant gift exchange begins. After the moment beneath the mistletoe, a feeling of magic lingers within you. You must tell Tim about your feelings for this to go beyond Christmas.

“Don’t get attached to that,” Nolan says as Wesley opens an expensive tool set.

Laying your head on Tim’s shoulder, you don’t feel him freeze beneath you. He watches you laugh with his friends, content in an environment – his environment – when his date couldn’t even tolerate walking past the cookie table. As Tim relaxes, welcoming you into his space, and feels the same warmness he had while kissing you, he unknowingly gives you his heart. You give him yours in return, and it’s the best gift exchange you’ve ever participated in.

Lucy opens your gift and squeals before tucking it under her sweater.

“I’m stealing that, so make it a little easier to get to,” Tim warns her.

“No!” Lucy exclaims. “Angela, Tim yelled at me last week.”

“She can’t save you now,” Tim tells Lucy. “I need that one.”

“Why?” Angela asks, raising her eyebrows as she glances toward you.

“You’re a detective, Lopez, figure it out.”

“Let me give you a ride home?” Tim asks in your ear.

You nod and accept his hand as you stand. After receiving hugs and gifts from a few friends, you follow Tim outside, and a soft white powder falls from above to greet you.

“Is that what I think it is?” Tim whispers.

Extending your hand, you catch some on your fingers and raise it to your nose. “Only if you think it’s powdered sugar.”

“Chen!” Tim barks. “What are you doing?”

“What?” Lucy asks from behind him. “Is that snow?”

“It’s close enough!” Nyla answers.

“Nyla?” you ask, stepping out into the powdered sugar snow. “Wade?!”

Tim follows you onto the walkway. His eyes widen when he sees his watch commander perched on the roof and spreading fake snow through a sieve.

“Act like I’m not here,” James adds, pouring more sugar into his shaker.

Nyla rolls her eyes and looks at Tim to demand, “Just kiss her again and put us out of our misery before New Year’s.”

You don’t have time to question her command before Tim pulls you in. The door clicks closed as you taste the powdered sugar on Tim’s lips, and you smile against him as the fine confectioner’s treat covers your clothing.

“I was going to ask you to come with me,” you admit, leaning your forehead against Tim’s as his arms wrap around your waist. “Like a date.”

“Raincheck for New Year’s Eve?” Tim suggests.

“Will it be like this?”

“I hope not.”

Nyla scoffs, but you kiss Tim in the makeshift winter wonderland rather than replying. You have been in love with Tim Bradford for longer than the duration of this party, but learning that he loves you too is a Christmas present that will never be topped.

[atompalace-official]

tiramisu ☕️🤎✨

[that-weirdo-thing]

I have been thinking about it for some time but, imagine that Robotnik's last invention fails because it was supposed to show memories and instead it brings back a 6 year old Ivo, Robotnik doesn't want anything with him

Stone (obviously) steps in and is the best babysitter/parental figure that baby Ivo had ever in his whole life, Robotnik is having feelings and thoughts about it and decided to ignore them cuz that means something like he cares for his agent nope

Baby Ivo in other hand is pretty much going through his first ever puppy love, he follows Stone around, sharing him any idea that he has, showing him any invention and all

He also is very happy that Stone is his, and Robotnik might want to kill him because how dare him to try to steal his Agent!!!

Just baby Ivo forcing his adult self to admit his feelings while Stone is the beloved doll that all the children fight over

Will baby Ivo search until he finds his own baby Stone once he returns to his time? Probably though the universe wouldn't let them meet until many years later

Honestly just want to share it cuz I have been thinking about it for like a week

[salparadiselost]

Christmas, Kansas

“Yello” said Jason, elbows deep into the Batmobile because while the Bats away the Robins will play and all of that shit. Really, it was Bruce’s fault for giving Jason a pair of keys back into the Manor. What was the man expecting? For Jason to not take advantage of Bruce’s corporate trip to LA and pass up the opportunity to give the Batmobile a few “upgrades”?

“Jason? Oh, thank god, you have to come get me.”

Jason hummed. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jason remembered some vague discussion about Bruce being gone and Dick starting to get concerned about it. 

“And why would I do that?”

“I’m trapped,” Bruce’s voice was starting to get a bit frantic. “Look I don’t know how much time I have left on this pay phone, but you need to get your siblings and come get me. I’m in a town called Christmas, Kansas. It’s at approximately 39 degrees north by 101–”

“Wait, the town is called Christmas?”

“Yes,” Bruce growled this word out with so much disdain that Jason was reminded about how the man talked about the Joker. “The town is trapped in Christmas. It’s trying to get me to feel the Christmas Spirit.”

Jason’s eyebrows crinkled together. “But you're Jewish?”

“That’s what I said! But no, apparently, anyone can feel the Christmas spirit, and I’m trapped here until I feel it, too. But I don’t feel shit except for the cold, because did I tell you, but it snows all the time here. It’s May! Jason, it’s May! And we have had three winter storms that have trapped us inside to force us to bake cookies and decorate trees and I’m going insane, Jason. I’m going insane! This might be what breaks me! I’m not singing Fa La La La La in fucking May, Jason!”

Jason had frozen, eyes widening as Bruce’s tirade ended, and all he could hear was his dad heavily panting into the phone. 

“Holy shit,” Jason whispered. He had heard Bruce at some of his worst and it was rare to hear Bruce sound so miserably exhausted. He was more used to Bruce sounding like he had a fair amount of control on things, but this man… this sounded like a man breaking. 

“Please come get me,” Bruce was practically pleading now. “I called Clark, but he’s been taken by this town’s delusion and apparently enjoys being here.”

Jason huffed a ragged laugh. “Of course he would, that man bleeds small-town Americana. He’s probably trying to get you to do all the Christmas traditions with him.”

“Yes,” Bruce said so miserably that it actually made Jason feel a bit bad for the guy. 

“Give me a few hours,” said Jason, sighing internally as he signed himself up for getting into more of this family’s bullshit. “I’ll have Tim trace the call, and we will come find you. In the meantime, go enjoy a cup of cheer.”

“I think if I drink another hot cocoa I’m going to have a sugar induced heart attack.”

“Cocoa? Who the fuck was talking about cocoa? I mean whiskey, Bruce. Or vodka. Or anything else strong and alcoholic that will tide you over until we get there.”

Bruce gave a grumbly, stilted laugh into the phone that definitely didn’t mess with Jason’s heart a bit and made him feel like he was twelve again. 

“Alright, Jay, I’ll see you soon.”

[loveandleases]

I had a sudden thought today, If you ever make a sequel in the same universe you could call it Love and Leashes! That way you’ll be able to still use the fun name and have a connecting aspect to the first game title wise, it’s entirely up to you though!

It could be the darker, more mature version of Love and Leases. A little bit of forbidden fruit, like romancing your sibling’s best friend, which they absolutely disapprove of.

A little bit of age gap romance, maybe even with one of your parent's business partners. Oh, or your ex’s parent... (just realizing now that would have been a great screw-you to Chris).

There would be some overlapping characters—maybe the sibling’s best friend is actually one of G's siblings (they have several.) Or the ex's parent is actually one of Ardent's cousins.

You’d get that layered tension: a power dynamic in the age-gap romance, secrecy and scandal with the parent’s friend or ex’s parent, and so much potential for fallout.

MC could have come from a similar background like Cam. Rich family, black sheep. Or, their ex actually turned out to be living a double life and engaged, then MC calls it off without a moments hesitation. But it's too late the damage is already done.

I got carried away and made a logo because why not? I've got to power through an essay and then try and fix a code I broke when adding in a choice from Chapter 2 into Chapter 1. (damn you chris and your rebound choice!)

[joyfulxgod]

~~~.~📜~.~~~ || Cornifer - Hollow Knight || self request ::)

I actually played Hollow Knight again for this one!! Well, not really played, but I opened to game to record Cornifer ::) It made me really happy to play it again!! Hollow Knight means a lot to me, it's my favourite game ever, and other than my first ever playthrough I've actually never reopened the game haha cause it just felt so special that I couldn't find the right time to replay it. But it was really nice to experience the beginning moments again <3 almost made me cry haha

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Sidekick in distress (4)

Part 1 part 2 part 3

(this is going to turn whumpy, so...bones are broken and all that kind of stuff)

Detective stood behind a pillar, looking at the devastated parking. After years in this town, he knew better than saying “no one could survive that”. Then again, not a lot of people would have shrugged off what had caused that devastation either.

It’d taken a lot of wreckage to climb and a lot of swearing, but he’d finally found a torn cape. Supervillains loved their capes. He couldn’t imagine one letting it behind willingly. Whatever else went down, the fight had hurt both of them. There were no bodies around, though. No hero, no villain, no citizen, nothing.

Something was terribly wrong. He raised his head. There was no helicopter in the cloudy sky. No firefighter, no ambulance, no caped jerk in the air or on the ground. That part of the city wasn’t that remote. He barely dared to breathe while exploring the ruins. He kept throwing glances behind his back, as if some attack was imminent.

He gritted his teeth. He had to find something. Last time he’d checked, Supervillain had a lot of flaws, but they weren’t radioactive. It was fine. He’d made a quick stop to his office first. His gun was burning him through the holster. His fingers gently felt the cannon before he took another step.

He kept on exploring, trying to breathe as softly as possible. A large stone landed just in front of him, making him start. Detective looked up. It’d been the hat of an impressive mount of wreckage. The whole shivered, hesitated, then decided it was a good moment to collapse in his direction. He ran as fast as he could while the ground trembled under his feet. When it calmed down, he went back and jumped on the new piles. His eyes grew wide.

Emerging from the stones, there was a mangled hand. It had long nails, a ring around the fourth finger, both characteristics he knew for having been strangled by that hand not so long ago. It was still attached to an arm, but the rest was buried under tons of wreckage.

He turned around, his fist pressed on his mouth. After some deep breaths, he slipped on the hole. He pressed the wrist, making sure there was no pulse. There wasn’t. No livid fingers closed on his own. Detective shook his head, took a picture, climbed back, and sent it to Healer. Someone else had to have this evidence. The immediate answer was:

“Get out of here. Please.”

“I’m not planning to settle there,” he texted back. “Going back now.”

“Hey there.”

His head snapped up. His hands froze, clinching his phone.

“Hey,” he answered to Hero, who was walking towards him with a smile.

Oh, they’d bullshitted all right. Their walk was fast, with no limp or hesitation at all despite the treacherous ground. They barely had dust on them. Detective glanced at the traces they left on the stone, as if they were walking on sand.

“What happened?” he asked. “I wanted to park there.”

Hero laughed:

“You haven’t heard? I just fought a villain. I send a warning to all citizens to stay out of this place.”

“Ah, didn’t get the message, sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad I found you.”

“I feel so much safer now that you’re here,” assured Detective, whose heart did his best to stay in his chest.

They smiled at each other. Hero held out their hand.

“I need your phone,” they said.

“Sure.”

Detective gave it to them, with the security code still on. Hero took it and slipped it into an inside breast pocket.

“Hey, I thought you needed this!”

“Yes. I’ll call Sidekick with yours, since they won’t answer for me. I think they’ve blocked my number.”

“The kid? They’re out of town?”

“They were kidnapped. Corrupted, if you wish. If you want my guess, I think they were convinced to run away by another consumed by jealousy. A pathetic insignificant man, wanting to make someone greater than him fall. I thought I recognized this voice.”

A heavy silence fell, during which Detective counted the beatings of his heart. He looked around. What for? He wasn’t fast enough to get away. Hero shook their head, looking at the frozen man with pity:

“I can nearly empathize, you know. You are, after all, a relic of the past. A rusty chariot in a world of limousines. That must be hard.”

“I’m surprised you recognize me. I thought we peons all looked the same to you.”

Hero chuckled:

“You, a father? Don’t make me laugh. Sidekick’s parents don’t have any money for a lawyer. Hell, I’m not even sure if they know that job exists. I gotta say, I never thought you’ve stooped that low.”

“At least I’m not throwing a tantrum because a kid doesn’t like me. What, is your job too hard for you? Do you need a fourteen year-old to hold your hand?”

Hero considered that thought for a moment, their gaze lingering:

“I did it for them, you piece of shit,” they said flatly. “For their own good. So you’re going to give me the code to your phone, and we’ll all have a little conversation to set things right.”

Detective opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no word. None. Not when he had a mangled hand in his head. Supervillain had handled him like a puppet, and Hero had squished them like a bug. There weren’t a lot of things left to say, even less to do.

So he stepped backward and aimed at them.

Hero looked at the gun, at the man’s face, and began to laugh. They stretched out their arms in an inviting gesture. They didn’t stop laughing as bullets flied, first around them, then straight at their heart.

“Did you get that out of your system?” they asked pleasantly.

Detective answered by a grin that made them pause. Putting the old gun back in the holster, he had the grim satisfaction of seeing Hero patting their heart, changing colors, realizing what he’d been aiming at. They took his phone out of their inside pocket, then theirs, trying to see if either could still work.

“It’s not that good,” he told them with a sad smile.

Hero looked at him, their face now devoid of all expression, crushing the remnants of his phone in their hand. Something turned very cold in Detective’s chest, but he didn’t run. It was no use, and besides, he didn’t want to.

“Well, at least this won’t take long,” he mumbled, hands in his pockets.

A wan smile appeared on Hero’s face. Their fist raised slowly. Detective instinctively leaned in that direction, brandishing his elbow as a shield. The hit didn’t come, but the ground suddenly shifted from his feet. While his head landed harshly, two hands grabbed his leg and squeezed and bent it in an impossible angle. Dazed by the fall, he didn’t even scream. The world went blurry under his eyes, hearing only the sound of his breathing while the other leg received the same treatment. Pain came, but muffled, gentler than it should have been. For a few seconds, all sensations were gone. When he could think again, it was to realize that Hero was on the other side and dragged him by the collar of his jacket.

Instinctively, he tried to fight back. He couldn’t even reach them, and an instant later he found himself just above the hole where he’d found Supervillain. They both exchanged a look, then Hero pushed. The crash was as unpleasant as possible. Detective curled himself as much as he could, biting his fist to muffle a scream. Gritting his teeth, grunting like a dying animal, he used all the strength of his arms and arranged himself in a sitting position, his broken legs in front of him, as straight as possible.

Hero was looking at him from above, but rather distractedly. When they talked at last, his voice was calm, slightly hesitant:

“I think…I think you helped Supervillain. You were desperate for money, and you accepted their offer, betraying me and the whole town. Sad, really.”

They smiled at Detective’s death glare:

“Don’t let it get to you. It’s just in case your corpse is found, but I don’t think so. Do you know how many explosives they use to get rid of old buildings? They told me, I was shocked. Of course, this might take a while before workers come. A couple of days, maybe a week. They wait for my approval, you see, and...well, I wanted to have mercy, but you had to piss me off.”

Detective stayed silent. He looked without a sound the aperture above him being covered by beams no normal person could have lifted on their own. The metal clanged loudly, as some gigantic nail shutting his coffin for good. After an eternity or two, it stopped. With a shaking hand, he took his flask from his jacket, drank the last sip of cocoa left, and threw it away. As adrenaline and shock wore off, pain came in waves through his legs, burning his shattered ankles.

Then, and only then, he let out the sob he’d been repressing.

*

(next part is coming soon, I promise)

Back to Hero x Villain Masterlist

[adsosfraser]

calamity's cocoa

a zombie apocalypse fluff-adjacent oneshot. in which Peeta's mother meets a satisfying ending. meet cute wc: 1793

happy katniss everdeen day <33 (it's still May 8 shh), this was originally written for the d12 fluff fest but I shall post it now instead

Snow falls unhurried to the ground. I watch as the flakes lick the pavement, not sticking but melting immediately. The sight would make me smile, were I in a well-insulated home, with a roaring fire to warm my toes and a cup of hot cocoa in my hands.

But, I speed on ahead on the precarious mountain highway, dodging abandoned cars that dot the two lanes. They slowly stretch farther and farther apart as I push deeper into the mountains, my foot like lead against the accelerator.

I catch a blur from my right, where there is a gradual hill down into the valley. I'm used to deer and other manner of critter in my woods, so I calmly slam my foot on the brakes. Well, as calmly as one can in a situation like this.

As the creature comes closer into view, I gasp at the distinctly human shape. It doesn't move as I ram right into it, sending its body crumpling right into the windshield and flying straight up over behind me. Even at the reduced speed I'm going, there's no way a human would have survived that.

But then, the disjointed limbs reanimate in my rear view mirror. I jump quickly to my bow and arrow, shoving the driver door open with a speed I didn't know I possessed and send one of my arrows flying straight through the walking corpse's eye. I scan my surroundings for more of the creatures, they usually travel in swarms, like a hive mind and I slip back inside the car. There is no sign of others as I turn the key over to the piece of junk I had borrowed just this morning.

I see a streak of light blond in my peripheral vision. My heart races. I was so certain I had killed that zombie with that arrow straight to the eye.

"Holy Fuck!"

My head jerks back into the headrest as the car splutters to its death.

And then my eyes take in the boy standing in front of my window with a sheepish smile. His hands are deep in his pockets as he shivers in the cold. I roll down the window, happy to see no signs of deteriorating flesh from him.

"Hi."

"Uh, hello."

He looks back at the blonde zombie, her hair limp and pale and her flesh sagging away from her bones.

"That was my mother."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I couldn't kill her myself, so I nudged her in the right direction."

"When was she bitten?"

"Five days ago."

I look down to the chains wrapped around her neck.

"If-" The man looks down at me, hopefully shy. "If you have nowhere to stay, you can come with me Katniss."

The use of my name forces me to inspect him closer and my eyes widen as the recognition dawns on me. I haven't seen that face since middle school. Or was it elementary?

"Peeta?"

His face brightens with a smile. "You remember me?"

"Of course I do. You remember me?"

"I remember everything about you."

My face heats at his sincere candour. The pines around us groan and I push open my door. It sticks with the ice and cold and Peeta helps pull from the outside as well. Soon, I'm free with a quiet thanks to him and I reach the trunk for my hunting bag, my bow and arrow already in hand. I never seem to stop owing my boy with the bread. The boy who saved my life from certain starvation so many years ago. So I try to match his kindness in at least an attempt of some repayment.

"Lead the way?" I gesture with my bow in hand.

We abandon the car, its obvious defects no worth risking out necks out in the open to fix for hours in the cold, exposed to both the weather and the creatures that go bump in the day.

It's not far as Peeta limps his way with a rudimentary wooden crutch to a secluded cabin surrounded by chestnuts, oaks, maples, and pines. The trees offer a good camouflage; the house is well hidden within the leaves and bark. He notices my stare as he looks back at me with a smile for the tenth time, making sure I'm following and safe. That I haven't been left behind. Which would be impossible considering I'm practically breathing down his neck.

"I was bit. My brother had the crazy idea to chop off my leg and somehow it worked."

I don't know how to respond, so I simply don't.

My silence doesn't seem to bother him, as he keeps trudging on through the small clearing we're in, pointing out this bird and that rock or a random squirrel along the way. And then we finally stop before the cabin. It's nice and huge, befitting a family like the Mellark's, who soared into wealth as their bakery became renowned in this part of Appalachia a couple years ago.

It reminds me of my father's cabin, the logs of pine expertly crafted into a cohesive stack, but on a more extreme scale. In fact, that's the very destination I had in mind before I rammed into Peeta's mother. The peace and quiet of my father's cabin, where he taught me how to hunt and fish and swim. To survive. And now, all I have left of my father is his wisdom. It does give me some comfort to know that he didn't have to go through this shit show. That his death happened long before the outbreak, and wasn't marred by his corpse reanimating.

Peeta stomps his boots before the entryway and I follow suit, falling into a routine almost instantly. We toe off our shoes in the mud room. There are no mud prints, or motes of dust in sight. Peeta calls out to someone and I tense, unready for a presence other than him. And then, I hear the bells jingle and hear hooves clopping against the wood floors.

"Lady!" I crouch down and wrap my arms around the goat's neck.

It's been years since I've seen the creature. She was Prim's, and it broke my heart to see her go away when we could no longer sustain a goat in our new apartment. Her hair was in two braids, and she bawled as she put one last pretty pink ribbon on her beloved goat. Tears spring to my eyes too a that memory, and how young and innocent my baby sister was. Her heart was, and is so big.

"I begged my dad to adopt her when I found out you were moving. I wanted to give her back to you guys." He looks around sheepishly, his hand scratching the back of his neck as a blush colours his face. "Sorry it took a few years. So much has happened."

"That's actually—" I smile up at him, scratching the spot between Lady's shoulders that she loves. "—so sweet of you Peeta."

"Is your sister…?"

Lady runs away, happy with her quota of pets for the day, and I hear clomps up the steps to the second floor.

"Alive? Yes, I was going to meet her at our father's cabin. Same with my mother."

He exhales a big breath and reaches out a hand to me. He knows I'm perfectly capable of getting up from my squat alone, but something in me makes me accept the help.

"Hot cocoa? I still have some packs stashed away after all these months."

"Sure." My lips twitch into a soft smile.

My face will surely fall off from all the smiling I seem to be doing today. And it's barely noon.

He leads the way to the kitchen, taking my bag from me and dropping it down near the island. The entire place is open and tall, the beams of pine and cedar reaching high up in the air to almost twenty feet. The large windows on the wall opposite the kitchen offer a breathtaking view of the mountains. My mouth gapes like a fish as I take in the leather couches, the stainless steal fridge, and the kitchen island with a nice stone surface.

Peeta's already at the kettle when I finally take a seat at one of the stools. It swivels and I swing myself side to side as he putters about. My brows furrow at the sight of the cord attached to the kettle, and into an outlet that is clearly working, and then I remember the sight of the massive solar panels on the cabin roof. The water heats up quickly and he pours two cups of the liquid into plain white mugs with the hot cocoa powder. He ushers us into the living room, and we fall into the loveseat. The cushions swallow us and we slide into one another, our legs connecting with a tingling rush of warmth. He begins a speech, jaw set and eyes determined.

"With this whole death of civilisation, or well rebirth, whatever people want to call it these days. I've really sorted my priorities. We've all been forced to." Peeta pauses, licking his soft and plump lips as he looks directly into my eyes. My palms sweat at the eye contact and I regrip my mug with the sleeves of my long shirt. "And well, I uh." His eyes dart to the side and quickly back at me. "I like you Katniss. I have ever since I heard you sing the Valley Song in Kindergarten. Your hair was in two braids instead of one that day and your hand shot straight up when the teacher asked for a volunteer. The birds stopped when you sang, just like with your father." Next, his eyes swoop to the bottom of my braid, a yearning behind them as if he wants to reach out and caress it. "I don't presume to know how you feel, and I don't want to force-"

Impusively, I rush forward to shut him up with a kiss. I don't know what makes me do it, seeing the sentimental side of him with Lady, the way I watched my boy with the bread, my dandelion in the spring through the years before my sister and I moved in with our uncle Haymitch, or the cozy feeling of the snow falling down softly outside around us, with a warm cup of hot cocoa in my hands. But I whisper the words to him that I never even admitted myself. I let myself feel a semblance of happiness that I've forbidden myself from over the years. My chest blossoms with the warmth that overwhelms it and I break away from the kiss. My first one.

"I like you too Peeta."

[fluentmoviequoter]

Christmas Magic

hot cocoa bar celebration🧤❄️🎄

requested here! & inspired by Finding Santa (2017)

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!(event planner)!reader

Summary: Your Christmas charity dinner is threatened when Santa quits at the last minute. Tim Bradford is the only person you know who is free days before Christmas, but it will take some magic to make him agree to put on the suit.

Warnings/Word Count: fluff, brief angst, quick mention of harassment, mistletoe and magic. 3.5k+ words.

I rented the center, tables with chairs are being delivered at noon, and catering arrives at 4. Got that. Santa, gifts, check, check.

You turn away from your computer to make a note about contacting the pediatrics hospital administrator. With your phone tucked between your cheek and shoulder, you’d nearly forgotten that you were supposed to be listening to James, the older gentleman playing Santa at the fundraising event you’ve been planning since September.

“I’m so sorry to cancel on you last minute,” James says.

Barely managing to catch your phone as you jerk in shock, you repeat his words in your mind. “Cancel? James, I’m sorry, did I hear that correctly?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ve been fighting this rotator cuff for years and it finally won out on me. I know it’s last minute, but I can’t safely perform the Santa duties.”

“Okay, okay,” you mumble, pressing your forehead into your hand. “I understand, and I hope you feel better. I’m just not sure where I’m supposed to find another Santa days before the event, this close to Christmas.”

“If I hear of anybody who’s available, I’ll send ‘em your way.”

“Thanks.”

You end the call and stare at your computer screen. There is absolutely no way you can find someone – someone decent, at least – to play Santa Clause in three days. The event is on December 23rd, Christmas Eve-Eve, and it was hard enough to book James so close to Christmas Day.

“Oh, I’m gonna need a Christmas miracle,” you whisper as you reach for your mug.

A bell jingles outside, and you close your eyes. If only an angel capable of playing Santa were getting its wings.

“Are you okay?” your assistant, Holly, asks from the doorway.

“Not even a little bit,” you answer with a stressed smile. “We need a new Santa.”

“In less than a week?” she exclaims, setting a stack of papers on your desk. “How are you going to do that?”

“I have no idea. I could do open auditions, but then we’re just going to get all of the crazy people desperate for a Christmas gig in here, and I can’t sort through applications or anything with everything else going on,” you ramble before taking a breath. “Any chance you have a cousin, brother, dad, or a neighbor without a criminal record who could help me out?”

“My folks are traveling for the holidays and all of my neighbors are girls. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. We just… we have to think of something. Preferably by the end of today.”

“If anyone can pull together some Christmas magic it’s you,” Holly assures. “I’ll go make some calls and let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”

“Thanks, Hols.”

As she leaves, you open your phone and scroll through your contacts. Each name makes you a little more discouraged. Most of them are busy with families, out of town, completely unqualified, or you haven’t spoken to them in so long that you can’t justify asking for something like this, even if it is for the kids.

“It’s all I want for Christmas,” you whisper as you near the end of your list.

One name jumps out at you, but you hesitate to contact him. He might have to work or be coming off of a hectic holiday shift on the 23rd. But you’re running out of options, so you text Tim Bradford to ask if he’s free. The phone rings a moment later, and you answer immediately.

“No, don’t- Chen!” Tim scolds.

“Uh, hello?” you greet.

“Hi!” a woman replies. “My name is Lucy Chen, I’m Tim’s rookie. You asked if he was free on the 23rd and I’m calling to say that he absolutely is.”

“Good, good,” you reply, chewing your bottom lip. “I actually have a really big – huge – favor to ask him, so maybe I’ll call him back later.”

“What is it?” Tim asks.

“Uhm,” you hum, trying to find the right words. “I need someone to play Santa at the charity event for the Children’s Hospital Los Angeles and UCLA’s pediatric department.”

“I… can’t,” Tim says after a moment.

“He means he won’t,” Lucy adds.

Your shoulders drop as you murmur, “Okay. Bye.”

After you hang up, you realize that Tim Bradford is your only chance. If he really won't do it, you either have to put a woman in the Santa suit and hope for the best or disappoint every child and parent in attendance by announcing at the last minute that Santa can’t make it. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, but at least the diner down the street has good hot chocolate that will help you get your mind off it for a few minutes. You wave at Holly on your way out, then try to think of exciting, merry, and bright things rather than the coming disappointment as you walk to your favorite diner. As you enter, you notice three men sitting in the booth closest to the door, but they’re the kind of men you know you wouldn’t invite to be in the same room with wealthy women or children, let alone both at the same time.

“Robbery in progress at Vicksen’s Diner,” dispatch alerts. “Callers report three armed men, and one is blocking the main entrance.”

“7-Adam-19 responding, code 3,” Tim radios before hitting the lights and sirens.

“Vixen’s Diner?” Lucy repeats. “They must really like Christmas.”

“V-i-c-k-s-e-n,” Tim corrects. “It’s the last name, the family has owned the place for decades. The call you intercepted earlier?”

“What about her?”

“She’s probably there. It’s her favorite place and they have Christmas specials right now.”

“How do you know that?”

“Focus, Chen,” Tim snaps as he turns the sirens off. “We’re approaching the rear exit without a sound, understood? Our priority is to get these people safe, then and only then do we go after the robbers.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy agrees.

“I don’t have any more cash,” the owner explains again. “It’s the twenty-first century, genius, most of our business is card or tap-to-pay.”

“And it’s Christmas,” you add from your booth. “Just go.”

“Not until I get something!” the man screams.

“How about a one-way trip to jail?” someone adds. “We already called the police.”

“Then pay up or they’ll have a body,” one of the other robbers says, turning their gun toward the customer.

Someone clicks their tongue, and you look over to see Tim Bradford and who you assume to be Lucy Chen standing behind the counter.

“LAPD,” Tim says. “Weapons down, hands up, or your Christmas is going to be even worse.”

The man closest to the counter tightens his grip on his gun, then curses and drops it as he raises his hands.

“I recommend you follow his lead,” Lucy tells the man beside you.

“Open the door,” Tim dares the final man. “My partner out there would love to lay you out.”

All three men surrender, and you watch Tim as he cuffs and zip-ties them while his rookie calls for backup.

“You said you had a partner out there!” the men complain.

“I lied,” Tim says as he stands. “You should know what it’s like.”

Three more patrol cars park outside, and officers take the would-be thieves out of the diner as Lucy checks on the owner and the other patrons. When Tim walks to your table, you lean back and look at him.

“I really need your help,” you explain. “It’s one night and you’d get paid.”

“It’s not about the money,” Tim replies. “Are you okay?”

“Then what is it about?” you press. “We both know you’re great with your nephews even if you hate to admit it. It’s only a few hours of asking kids what they want for Christmas, a few pictures, and then- then I’ll buy you dinner, whatever you want.”

“Why are you asking so close to the event?”

“Because I already had a Santa, but he tore his rotator cuff and backed out on me at the last minute. You know I wouldn’t ask something like this unless I really needed it.”

Tim nods, though he’s wondering why he is the one you’ve chosen to show your persistence and desperation to. Surely, you know other men capable of wearing an uncomfortable polyester suit and saying ho, ho, ho.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Tim points out. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. One of them pushed me out of the way, but-“

Tim moves closer to you and bends to look into your eyes. His gaze moves over your face before catching on the slightly red area against the side of your neck.

“You sure?” he whispers.

You nod and smile before you push past him to exit the booth. “I have to get back to work and find a Santa or break hundreds of hearts. Be safe, Tim.”

Tim watches you walk toward the door, and Lucy’s eyes widen as she gestures wildly toward you.

“I’ll do it,” Tim calls. He tells himself it’s because you’re so persistent and seem stressed, but deep down, he knows there is more to it than that.

“You don’t have to,” you say as you face him. “Don’t do something that’s going to make you miserable just because I need help.”

“I’ll do it,” he repeats. “Text me the details?”

“How ‘bout I just pick you up on the 23rd? Around noon?” you reply.

“Sure.”

“Thank you, Tim,” you say with your hand on the door. “You’ll never know how much this means to everyone… to me.”

Tim nods as you leave to return to work, and Lucy claps silently.

“Get in the shop, boot,” he demands.

“You look nice,” you compliment when Tim opens his door the morning of the event. “The red suits you.”

Tim swallows as he looks at you and says, “You don’t have to butter me up, I already said yes.”

“I’m just calling it how I see it,” you assure him.

“I thought this thing didn’t start until 4,” Tim muses as he locks his door and follows you to the car.

“It doesn’t, but we have to get the Santa suit fitted. If you want to leave after and come back at 3, you can take my car.”

Tim shrugs and buckles his seat belt. When you turn the radio to a Christmas station, Tim immediately switches it to a football show. Your jaw drops as you turn toward him.

“You don’t like Christmas music?” you ask incredulously.

“I just don’t think it’s okay to give someone 23 birds,” he explains.

“My car,” you argue when he reaches for the control.

“My Santa debut,” he replies.

You give up and back out of his driveway with an exaggerated scoff.

“Why do you want me to be Santa anyway? I get that you had to ask people you know but I’m clearly not jolly enough.”

“Why is that?” you inquire. “I can understand not loving the music or the commercialism. The rest of it, though, that’s what I don’t get.”

“Just… don’t love the holidays. Reminds me of the things I don’t have anymore, I guess.”

Glancing at Tim, you wonder what it feels like to be someone’s for the holidays. Yes, it’s hard to be jolly when you miss someone, but for a moment, you wonder what it would be like to listen to carolers and decorate the tree while being in love.

“What’s this event like?” Tim asks, pulling you from your thoughts. “Been working on it long?”

“Since September,” you answer. “It’s geared toward the kids, but we have to do something to get the parents in too, so there’s raffles, a silent auction, dinner, and an area where they can sit with each other while someone else watches their kids.”

“So, it’s for donors?”

“At first,” you explain. “The donors are welcome to come anytime between 4 and 7. Then, we make everything absolutely perfect and bring in the kids from the hospitals at 8. They get more time with Santa, more gifts and games and treats. I know we have to raise a lot of money, but it’s not worth it if the kids don’t get to have fun with it too.”

“You’re really good at this,” Tim compliments, looking at you. “I didn’t know how much you put into all of this.”

“Now you regret saying no at first, huh?” you tease.

“That depends on how good the cookies are.”

“Then why are you so nervous?” you ask as you pull into the event center’s parking lot.

“I’m not-“

“It’s hidden well, but it’s there, Tim. You know you’re good with kids, so don’t let the size of this get to you.”

“I’ll try.”

“And if you get overwhelmed, Santa can always take a cookie break. I’ll be around if you need anything.”

You wish Tim luck as you drop him off with the wardrobe designer you hired, then begin transforming the space into a winter wonderland.

“Are you okay?” Holly asks as you finish constructing the games for the children from the hospital.

“I came to ask the same,” Santa says from behind you.

You turn quickly and smile at the sight of Tim in the suit. His beard has been set aside while he takes a break, but something about seeing him this way feels right.

“I’m fine,” you assure them. “Rich people are hard to please, I’m used to it.”

“Nobody should get used to people screaming in their face because the caviar is room temperature,” Holly argues.

“Is that what it was about?” Tim asks with a humorless laugh.

“He got over it. I actually saw him eating the caviar later,” you say. “Besides, this is the part of the night I’m here for.”

“You’re an excellent Santa,” Holly tells Tim. “The kids went on and on about you.”

“Told you,” you sing song.

“Do I give gifts to every kid?” Tim asks you.

“Yes, give them as many as you want because we have more. The red candy cane paper is more girly gifts, blue snowflake paper is for boys, and the gingerbread paper is gender neutral,” you list. “The elves also have a list of what we have, so if a kid asks for something specific, someone can check for you.”

“You should’ve been a cop,” Tim muses. “I wish my boot could keep things this streamlined.”

“You need to get back to the Northpole,” Holly says, glancing at her watch. “Not that this isn’t adorable.”

“Tim,” you call as he walks away. “Thank you.”

“It’s the only thing you’re getting for Christmas!” he replies.

Holly smiles as she moves to your side, and you glare at her.

“A gorgeous man wrapped in a Santa suit,” she muses. “You got every girl’s dream gift.”

“He isn’t mine,” you remind her.

“Christmas seems like the perfect time to change that.”

“Excuse me?” a young girl asks.

“Hello,” you greet, smiling as you squat beside her. “What’s your name?”

“Sally,” she answers. “Will you go with me to see Santa?”

“Of course!” You offer your hand and lead Sally through the crowds of happy children and grateful parents to get in line to see Santa. “What are you asking for this year?”

“I want a Hug-Wave,” she says softly, wrapping both her hands around yours.

“What’s that?”

“It’s twin stuffed animals, and when you hug one, it sends a hug to the other. I want to give my brother one so I can send him hugs when I have to stay in the hospital. He’s coming to see me on Christmas, but I miss him.”

Your eyes tear up, and you smile at Sally as you move forward in line. “I’m sure Santa will bring you one,” you assure her. “Look, we’re next!”

“You’ll stay with me?”

“Of course, Sally.”

As you walk onto the red carpet platform, Tim looks at you before looking at Sally. You mouth her name, and Tim calls, “Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas, Sally!”

“You know my name?” she asks softly, stopping beside his knees.

“Santa knows all of the good boys’ and girls’ names, and you, Sally, are on my nice list!”

“Do you want to sit on his lap?” you ask Sally.

She nods but keeps her hand firmly in yours. You move to Tim’s side as he pulls her onto his leg and blink to get the tears out of your eyes as Sally tells Santa about the hugging stuffed animal she wants to stay close to her brother.

“I think you and your brother would love that, Sally,” Tim says. “I’ll tell my elves about your wish, and we’ll work on that.”

“Thank you, Santa,” Sally says before pulling her hand from yours and hugging Tim.

You wipe your face before taking Sally’s hand and leading her to pin the nose on Rudolph, where she plays with kids like she didn’t just tug your heartstrings. Turning to check on everything, you notice that the Santa chair is empty, and the elves are entertaining the children in line. Less than a minute later, Tim returns and continues to visit children and parents alike.

“Psst!” someone calls.

You furrow your brows as you turn, and when you see Lucy, your eyes widen in shock.

“Santa asked me to bring you this,” she whispers as she slips a large gift bag through the door. “Care to be an elf for me?”

“Thank you,” you tell her. “I’ll take it to him now.”

“It looks amazing in here!”

“You’re welcome to stay, Lucy.”

You walk toward the North Pole area and tap an elf’s shoulder to take the gift to Tim. He excuses himself after the last child and walks to your side with the bag in his hand.

“Where’s Sally?” he whispers in your ear.

You look up at him and feel your tears building again as you say, “Tim–”

“I’m Santa tonight.”

You locate Sally sitting at a table with her parents and brother and eating a cupcake. Following behind Tim, you press your hand over your mouth as he kneels beside her and offers the bag. Her parents look at one another in shock as she removes the bears from the bag, then mouth their gratitude to Tim. Sally passes her brother a bear, and they begin hugging them to hug one another, and you decide this is the Christmas miracle you hoped to see.

Tim exits the small dressing room in the back hallway and doesn’t see you before you wrap your arms around his neck to hug him.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his neck. “For being Santa and for giving Sally the gift.”

Tim tightens his arms around your waist before you pull back. “It’s the least I could do,” he deflects with a shrug.

“No, it isn’t,” you insist. “I talked to Sally’s parents. They can barely afford gas to go back and forth to work and the hospital right now because one of them has to stay with her full-time because of her treatment. That’s why her brother can’t visit much.”

“Is she…”

“The doctors are hopeful that her current treatment is working,” you assure him. “They’re expecting to send her home sometime in the spring if she continues improving. Tim, you made their entire year.”

“You deserve some of that credit.”

“You pulled off a Christmas miracle, it’s all yours.”

“Does that mean you’ll tell me why you chose to ask me to be Santa?” Tim asks with a smile. His hands are still on your waist, but you’re dreading the moment when he steps back.

“Because I knew you could do it,” you answer. “You’re the only person I know that is kind and generous, selfless without letting people know it, and even if you get mad at me for saying it, you are kind and a big softie. You’re special, Tim Bradford, and a gentleman, and the closest thing I’ve seen to magical in a very long time. That’s why I asked and kept asking.”

“Well, you’re the closest thing I’ve seen to Mrs. Claus… ever,” he replies lightly.

“Without the time to bake and ‘Mrs.’ you mean.”

Tim shakes his head and asks, “Who helped you decorate?”

“Holly, mostly. Why?”

Lifting his chin, Tim gestures to the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

“It’s tradition,” you begin.

“You don’t have to convince me,” Tim interrupts.

He moves a hand from your waist to your cheek and kisses you. It feels like fireworks, warm hot chocolate, and every good and magical thing you can think of all at once. You move your hands to Tim’s jaw and move together, then pull back to thank him again.

“Thank you for calling Lucy and getting Sally’s gift here so quickly.”

Tim’s brow pinches as he says, “I didn’t call Lucy. I thought you got the gift here for her?”

You shake your head, then ask, “Well if you didn’t order it, and I didn’t order it, which Santa asked Lucy to bring it?”

Tim hesitates before he says, “It couldn’t…”

“There you are!” Holly calls as she enters the hallway. “I could not find this entrance, geez. Oh, hey, mistletoe!”

“You didn’t put this up?” you ask her.

“Me? No, I don’t even know where to buy mistletoe. That made me sound so single.”

You look at Tim, who smiles and whispers, “Christmas magic,” as he leans in again.

[olath124]

Two strong and powerful qweenz and a sad wet puppy. (Vlad. Vlad is the sad wet puppy. But we love him anyway. Right, @ouroboros-hideout?)

[dipplinduo]

I like to headcannon that everyone thinks Kieran is the one out of the pair to do something like mix an energy drink with his coffee, but in reality, it's actually Juliana, because she did not beat through SEVERAL REGIONS' worth of trained battlers without spending at least 18 hours pouring over strategies and wrangling her Pokemon with promises of enough sandwiches to solve world hunger.

Personally a really big fan of this headcanon, because as much as I love viewing Juliana as a very sweet girl with a very big heart, you gotta admit, her track record very much suggests this and frankly it's kinda swell to imagine how she's able to match Kieran's energy to some degree. xD

[eri-pl]

My dear mutuals, I just realized something.

So, there's been talk recently about breaking Papita out of Mandos and I suppose more of us may need help at some point... but we need one fundamental thing if we are to be able to save one another from some terrible prison (or, idk, recognize each other in a supermarket...):

we need to have a song in common

Like, seriously, the default scheme for breaking someone out from somewhere is: character A start singing, character joins them, character A finds character B and gets them out. Except...

I'm not sure there's any song I could sing together with any of you.

We need to make a list of songs that we all know well enough. Seriously.

[hergan416]

sherlock x louis fighting about william?

On any given day, should Sherlock Holmes be looking for one Louis Moriarty, the kitchen was not a bad starting point. Although as head of MI6 Louis no longer was required to perform the same kinds of menial labor he had been tasked with prior to the Final Problem, he had trouble letting go of the responsibility entirely. It showed up most in his desire to prepare snacks, serve tea, and even cook meals for his agents to eat upon their arrival at home.

Today as Sherlock meandered into the warm room, he found Louis hovering over a double broiler, a serious expression upon his face. The labels for several pricey bars of bakers chocolate littered the countertop, bragging of 95% cocoa content.

The chocolate itself was melting along with a healthy portion of butter and Sherlock smiled at the sight.... at least until he realized that Louis was adding another, highly unusual ingredient to the pan.

He let out a protest, reaching forward to stop Louis from this terrible error, but was too late to prevent the spoonful of anchovy paste from making its way into the double broiler with the otherwise perfectly normal chocolate-making materials.

Sherlock frowned, wondering what had overcome Louis to make such a terrible error when he was usually an accomplished cook.

"What's wrong?" Louis asked, frowning.

"Anchovies? Really?" Sherlock replied instead. "Not that they can't have their place, but you're making chocolate."

Louis blinked. "They're for my brother," he replied, as though that explained everything.

And in some ways it did. Liam's favorite food, starry-gazey pie, was pungently fish-flavored. And he did prefer it when Louis made it. But if Louis were hoping to impress his brother, there was no reason he could not have simply made the dish as intended.

"Why?" Sherlock found himself asking before he could stop himself.

"It's going to be Valentine's Day very soon," Louis added, as though Sherlock were a very slow child.

"So you decided to ruin perfectly good chocolate and feed it to your brother?" Sherlock protested.

"My brother enjoys this sort of thing," Louis replied with a shrug. "And I enjoy the challenge of making it palatable."

He stirred the melting substance carefully, and Sherlock watched, fascinated, as the fermented fish, chocolate and butter began to coalesce into a single innocuous-looking substance.

"That can't be good for him."

He could see Louis' shoulders tensing up, and realized he'd hit a nerve. Well, there was no point in backing out of this line of thought now. He might as well finish making the point.

"Wouldn't it be better to just get him to understand the delicious flavor of normal chocolate like the rest of us?"

Certainly it would be better for Sherlock's peace of mind.

"There is nothing wrong with my brother's tastes. And of all people, you should be one to talk about following what's normal."

"Nothing wrong -- Louis, you can't earnestly be this blind to his faults."

"What faults?" Louis hissed, his hand reaching for his knife. Conveniently, it was nearby, he had evidently used it to break apart the chocolate bars before adding them to the double boiler.

Sherlock waved his hands in front of his body dismissively, not wanting to face Louis' ire.

"The ones that make him a human like the rest of us," Sherlock tried to reason, grinning. "It's fine, it's fine. Don't let your chocolate burn because of me."

Louis frowned deeply, choosing to ensure Sherlock didn't miss the murderous glint in his eyes before turning back to his cooking. This was far from over.

"Get out of my kitchen," Louis commanded forcefully. "Or I will feed these to you."

"Yes, of course, love," Sherlock returned weakly, turning to leave. He'd have to pay close attention if he accepted any chocolates from Louis any time soon.